


You Helped Me

by thoughtsappear



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Headaches & Migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lana Lavellan suffers from horrible migraines but she's been able to keep them a secret from the Inquisition. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Helped Me

Lana Lavellan was not a morning person. Some mornings, she was last to come down from her quarters, but she always did. The promise of a hot breakfast and a strong cup of tea was often her only motivation to pull herself out of bed most mornings. But she did.

One morning Solas noted that she was exceptionally late, late enough that most of the party had already eaten their breakfasts and gone. Solas watched the doorway, expecting her to come in at any moment, but she did not. She was so late, Josephine had to ask for a third pot of tea to be brewed. Finally, they discussed among themselves who would go to rouse the Inquisitor.

“I’ll go." Solas firmly declared, rising from the table. Josephine insisted he take Lana a pastry and a cup of tea.

He approached her door tentatively, tapping gently at the heavy wood, loud enough to be heard, but not to disturb. It was late enough in the day that he hoped he would not be waking her, but he still did not want to appear rude or harsh.

He waited a moment, without any response, and tried again a little louder this time. He pressed his ear flat to the door and listened. He couldn't hear anything. He decided it was fair to gently open the door to check on her.

He pushed it open, still listening for Lana and trying to be as slow and deliberate as possible to keep her from being angry or being startled by his sudden intrusion. He made his way up the stairs to find Lana bundled into her bed, the covers drawn up around her neck and her eyes tightly squeezed shut. He could see tear tracks on her face, and concern and compassion overruled his usual sense of propriety as he rushed to her side.

“Inquisitor, what is wrong?” he asked, bending to examine her closer.

She slowly opened her eyes, wincing at the sudden light shining into her eyes. She blinked a couple times, focusing on him.

“Solas?” her voice was small and hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“We were worried when you did not come down to breakfast.” Solas set the breakfast tray down beside her bed.

“Oh, how late is it?” she tried to sit up, but flinched with pain as she did so.

“Don’t worry about that.” Solas helped her to lay back down. “Are you not well?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My head. I get these headaches ever so often. First I cannot see, then blinding pain. I can barely move my head, all I can do is stay in a dark, quiet room and try to sleep until it passes. Nothing helps.”

Solas nodded. “I know of what you speak. I knew others who were so afflicted. There is a potion that could quiet the side effects, such as the nausea and the sensitivity to the light, I will brew it at once.”

He stood up from her bed, already prepared to rush to his task, but instead she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Solas,” she whispered. “Do you think you might stay, just a little while?”

“Yes,” he said, sitting back down next to her.

They breathed together for a moment, while Lana rolled over in bed to face the other direction. “Do you think you might, tell me about your journeys in the fade? I need something to distract me and your voice is soothing.”

“I would be happy to,” he said, and he told her a story about the ancient days of Haven. He made sure to speak quietly and let his voice swirl around her and comfort her. He leaned over and stroked her back through the blankets until she fell asleep. He then crept out of her quarters to brew the potions as well as few back up vials in case this happened again. He even wrote out the recipe so that she could make it herself. While passing through the library, Dorian offered his assistance and Solas asked the man to try to research such headaches upstairs.

He returned to the Inquisitor’s quarters later that morning, and found her still in bed, but sitting up at least. He could still see the pain behind her smile. She always tried so hard to appear strong in all things.

“How do you feel?” he asked, once again sitting beside her on the other side of the large bed, careful not to disturb her.

“The pain is not so intense, but I still feel foggy. This always happens. I feel like I am underwater or not right in my body for a day or two afterward. And my magic is...stilted.”

He offered her the potion, which she gladly took. Her hand lingered on his for a moment and then she drank it down in two swallows. They sat on her bed for a moment, as she let the potion work its way through her body. She smiled up at him.

“I think it helped a little. I am feeling a bit hungry at least, and before the idea of food just turned my stomach,” she said.

Solas reached for the discarded breakfast tray and handed it to her. She turned her nose down at the tea, which by now was long since cold. Instead she took a small bite of the Orlesian pastry. He had made sure to pick the fruit filled ones, since he had seen her favoring them the last time they were served at breakfast. She ate slowly, chewing thoughtfully on each bite.

“Would you like me to bring you something,” Solas asked. “Something else to eat, perhaps?”

Lana smiled up at him, “No, thank you.”

She slid herself out of bed slowly, one leg hitting the ground at a time. He instinctively reached to assist her, but she shrugged him off.

“I’m okay, I’m just a bit dizzy from lying in bed all day,” she told him. “I need to get dressed.”

“Would you prefer I left?” Solas said, motioning toward the door.

“No, can you help me?” she asked. He nodded, standing and waiting for direction.

She pointed towards the closet. “Will you get my clothes please, the first tunic and leggings should be fine.”

He shuffled through her closet and retrieved her clothes and displayed them for her on the bed. Lana was already lifting her nightshirt over her head without hesitation, baring her body to him. He turned away quickly, but not after catching a glimpse of her nudity. He still felt the need to preserve her modesty, even if she didn't. The smallest bit of embarrassment colored his cheeks. Solas stared at the wall as she dressed. He could hear rustling and shuffling behind him.

“Will you help me with my boots?” she asked timidly. “It hurts too much to bend my head down to lace them.”

He knelt at her feet and skillfully helped her with them. She frowned as they tightened around her calves.

“I wish I didn’t have to wear these things,” she remarked, flexing her foot in the stiff boot. “But Josephine insists.”

She looked down at his bare feet with envy.

“You don’t have to wear boots for them, lethallan,” he replied, helping her stand. “You are the Inquisitor, she is merely your ambassador.”

She shook her head, “I don’t mind doing things to keep up proper appearances.”

Solas frowned but nodded despite his disagreement. This was not the time to try to change her mind. She was still woozy from her pain and weak from her time in bed.

“Ma serranas,” Lana said. “Ma melava halani.” _You helped me._

“It was no trouble,” he said. He felt compelled to do something else to comfort her, so he drew closer and took her head in his hands and cradled her face with the tips of his fingers. He filled his fingers with frost, hoping the cool touch would help dull the pain. They stared at each other for a moment, and Lana closed her eyes as she leaned in for a kiss. Solas lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead instead. He then released her and stepped away, even as she lifted her hand and opened her mouth to protest.

“Come,” he said, not waiting for her to follow. “We have matters to attend to.”

Lana frowned but hurried on.

“Such as getting you a cup of tea and a good book,” Solas continued as she reached him on the stairs. “The war table can wait a day, can it not? You are still in recovery.”

“The potion really did help,” she said. “I can go talk to them-“

“No, vhenan,” Solas interrupted, firm but still gentle. “I will handle everything.”

Lana watched in amazement as Solas took over her duties, helping make strategic choices, convincing Josephine and Leliana to leave her alone and boldly shooting down one of Cullen’s war table mission ideas.

He sequestered her back in her quarters with a few books on runes and a few others on elven history. He even slipped in a copy of _Hard in Hightown_ in case the text was too taxing because she had mentioned reading after her attacks was difficult when the text was small or tightly packed.

He returned to her her quarters late in the evening, with a bowl of hot soup and a chunk of bread, finding Lana asleep in her book. He helped tuck her back into bed, and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“Solas,” she murmured. “Is it time to get up?”

“Shh,” he whispered, pulling the covers up to her neck. “Go back to sleep.”

“Please,” she said, her eyes fluttering open. “Will you stay?”

Solas shook his head, but even then, he felt himself drawn to her. He pulled back the covers and slid in beside her. She immediately snuggled up against him, even though Solas deliberately stayed toward the other side to avoid bumping into her.

“Good night,” she mumbled.

Solas felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile before he forced them back down. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her, and he lay down against the pillow, breathing in the scent of her hair. It smelled like wind and earth and just the smallest hint of lyrium.

He allowed himself this moment of contentment, and drifted off to sleep beside her, planting a kiss on the back of her neck. He would not let himself be there when she woke.


End file.
